So, How 'Bout This Weather?

You wake up, it's bright blue sky, five minutes later it's hailing little sharp ice bullets that cut at your face. Another five minutes, the heavens have cleared and there's not a cloud in sight. Then it snows, and it's the fluffier, flakier snow I hoped to see.

The flatmate tells me the French call it les giboulee de mars where the weather changes from one extreme to another, all the time, and it's incredible.

Not a dirty lens - that be snow

If He Can Do It

...so can I. I love this slideshow of David Lebovitz' Paris kitchen. If he can cook, and produce cookbooks, and take lovely photos in this itsy bitsy thing, anyone can.

Work The Line

If you:

* have any interest in cooking
* have ever eaten in a restaurant
* have a crush on Tony Bourdain (what's new)
* have a new crush on Eric Ripert (why you looking at me?)

...then you must watch Tony Bourdain's Into The Fire special, where he goes back to Les Halles and cooks the lunch and dinner shifts. Brilliant, compelling viewing.

Part One here, then follow the links. (what are you doing? Go and watch it now).

Spring On A Plate

Cut the stumps off a couple of handfuls of brussel sprouts, and continue to slice them thinly. Warm a sliced garlic clove in olive oil, then add the sprouts. Saute until the leaves are pick up some golden colour. Season. Add toasted pinenuts, a nob of butter and stir through spaghetti. Shave a little parmesan over the top.

Suriname And Then Some

Ex-colonies always come up with the most delicious food. Suriname in South America used to belong to the Dutchies, and since it's not a cuisine we're likely to find anywhere else, I thought we should definitely try it out. It also coincided with watching a travel cooking show on Suriname and it's interesting food, a mix of Chinese, Javanese, Indian and much more.

We picked a popular restaurant in Chinatown, Kam Yin, a typical dive with big serves and cheap prices (rare for Holland, even in Chinatown). Missing greasy Chinese, we ordered fried wontons and chicken satay sticks to wash down with cold Tsingtao beer. We had to try Pom, a baked dish of chicken and root vegetable similar to potato, which was yummy mush, and moksi meti, a selection of different meats - roast pork, grilled chicken, Chinese pork sausage and chargrilled pork. It wasn't anything spectacular, but very filling and cheap, worth another visit to try more of the extensive menu.

Afterwards we seeked out Bar Gollem, a favourite brown cafe near the Singel with something like 200 beeers, mostly Belgian. A cosy, typically smokey bar, we tried a citrusy white beer and a slightly spicey honeyed San Bernardus. Each beer is served in it's own special glass. A must on the Amsterdam circuit.

Green and gold

Some entrees to kick-start the cholesterol

Moksi meti, aka meats on a plate. No need to complicate things

Pom Special - the special was that you got more of it. No oil painting, but pretty delicious

And I'd just like to report that Dani and I are officially creeps. Yesterday was a balmy 12C and like the rest of Haarlem, we cooled off with a gelato. A gelateria opened up by the church in Grote Markt and we enjoyed two scoops while walking around the Saturday market: amarena cherry and vanilla bourbon for me, amarena cherry and coffee for Dani. Smooth and delicious.

Yum

Happy Birthday Kath!!!

Happy Birthday my beautiful Kath. This is a big birthday and I really, really wish I had been there, but I'm always with you. You'll hate me saying it, but you are kind, selfless, do so much, and so much good. You are the most wonderful mother and I admire that so much. You work hard, cook delicious things, write beautifully, starting to get into fun girl things (yay!) - basically you are just an all-round super fantastic person.

I am lucky to have you not just as my sister but my friend. We'll have yum cha soon x

When In Amsterdam, Squat

I don't know much about squatting, but it's big here, and many of them have their own restaurants. They're run by volunteers so you call up on the day to say you're coming and they know how much food to prepare. The reviews were good, the NY Times included, so it was time to check one out. We chose De Peper, probably the most well-known of the 10 or so out there, easy to get to near Vondelpark.

De Peper is 100% organic and vegan, and for 6E you get soup and a main, and if you want dessert it's an extra 1.50E. Drinks are also 1.50E, and the biological beer I had was fine. There's no menu. You pick up your dinner from the counter and bring the plates back. Easy. The space is pretty cosy, complete with chilled-out dog on the couch. Our soup was bean, onion and something like seaweed, and was a delicious, hearty clean soup. The main was a plate of different things - beetroot and sesame salad, couscous with vegies, grated carrot salad and a wholemeal pie with...crab. Now, I have no problem with vegan, as long as they don't fake food to make it taste like something else. The pastry was nice but let's leave the faux crab.

So overall not a bad meal out, something different and good value - even with the Burger King burger afterwards.

It Was A Dark And Stormy Night

It wasn't, but this is starting to sound like some melodramatic novel with an unbelievable plotline you find in the 75% off bin, so maybe it's a fitting way to continue describing what happened next.

I got out of here as soon as I could yesterday as Petit Tresor had a big oaf friend sleeping on the couch. I took all my papers to the library and translated them. The papers we thought were confirming our residency were actually letters just confirming they'd received our application for residency. So we had nothing that we could show the consulate that we were residents. Dani emailed to say one of the girls she works with who has lived here for two years has never even heard of a residency card.

I emailed the consulate and outlined what we did have, that our work permit could not be granted without residency, that we have a tax file number, and could they confirm exactly what we needed to bring with us to the interview. They replied, ignoring the last bit, and said they can only issue us with a visa if we have proof we are residents. "When you get it, then you can apply".

At this point I realised, who actually are we? We are in some kind of limbo, waiting for a mythical residency card, but until then? Do we actually exist? Are we ghosts? Tax-paying ghosts? So I bit the bullet and called the IND (immigration department) and asked for our status. Coincidently, my letter confirming approval of my residency was sent the day before, while Dani's would be two days later. They would take up to two weeks to arrive, and then we take that letter to the IND and pick up the actual letter saying we are residents (just off the top of my head, you could just send that in the mail while you're at it). But he said I could probably just pick it up directly next week. My interview being in just over two weeks, I thought that should be ok. But since Dani's interview is this Tuesday, and the letter wouldn't arrive in time, I asked if I could come in and get a letter just confirming that she was approved for residency and that the letter is in the mail. He said that sometimes they can do this; I bunged it on, said we urgently had to leave to the UK, and that we couldn't change our interviews with the consulate. The phone was transfered to many colleagues, lots of putting on hold*, and the girl came back and said she would give us a 'return visa' that would allow us to come back within 3 months and that it would show the consulate that we are residents. She missed the point about it being a long-term visa that's up to two years. "That would be an Article 9 letter!" Then when she came back she said "oh don't worry, you are Australian and Australians don't need visas for the UK". When I convinced her we did, she came back and said she needed to discuss it further, and would call me back.

I hopped back on the consulate's interview booking page just to see our options since obviously Dani wasn't going to get anywhere on Tuesday and saw a whole new set of dates, and quickly changed Dani's interview for 28 March. I can't tell you how relieved I was! I never heard back from the IND, but that gives us both two weeks and hopefully both our papers will have arrived by then. Proving that we are residents so we can leave.

And they lived happily every after...not yet, but hopefully soon.

* Why is it when you're making an important phone call you only ever have one bar left on your battery?

Haha Life, Good One, You Are Hilarious

I went for my visa interview this morning at the British consulate. Waiting waiting, only to be told I couldn't apply since I didn't have my residency card. "I have residency but the immigration department said it could take up to 6 months for the card to be sent". "Well then". Never mind that it didn't say anywhere that you had to bring proof of residency, just the forms and your passport. I can bring the paper they sent saying I have residency but had to make another interview - the earliest is in one month. At least they issue the visa then and there, but I'm fuming. I just want to work and get settled well and truly.

My mind races with practical matters; to calm down I realise I need to have things placed in my mind, create some sort of order quickly even if the finer points need to be tweaked later. I thought, Dani can head to London and get started, and I'll head to Rome, study something for a couple of weeks, language, cooking. The irony being that I have two people coming to visit in the next couple of months yet have all this free time now. Haha Life, you are hilarious.

Update: I had a brainwave and went back to the online appointment page hoping someone may have cancelled or changed their interview time - yes! 1 April popped up so I quickly clicked it - I hope it isn't some April Fool's Day joke because the joke has been on us for quite some time already.

Our New Hood

Guanciale

When mum and I studied Italian two years ago, our teacher - an absolute Fellini-esque character who was such a pleasure to learn with - gave us study CDs to listen to during the week. One of the very first lessons was describing bucatini all'amatriciana - you know, un pomodoro, il pomodoro, i pomodori, dei pomodori - and I fell gaga over the sound of this dish. The recipe, yes, but moreso just the name of it. Bucatini all'amatriciana. Like Elizabeth Gilbert and attraversiamo, bucatini all'amatriciana to me is beautiful to hear and say. I'd listen to the CDs in the car (admittedly, not nearly as much as I should have) and sing out the recipe with molto piacere.

One of the ingredients is guanciale, another gorgeous Italian word. And when I saw it at the Italian deli Susan took us to in Leiden on Saturday, I pounced on it. I'd never seen it before, and those lessons - pomodori, cipoli cipolla, aglio, guanciale, peperoncino - came back to me. I couldn't wait to make this Roman, and of course, highly contested, pasta.

The store didn't have bucatini, so spaghetti it was. I didn't want the guanciale crisp, but instead preferred to cook it with the onion and garlic briefly and let the tomatoes warm the fragrant fat throughout the sauce. Lots of pepper, a kick of chili. The unique flavour of the guanciale lingers, with it's sweet-spiced crust. Because it's air-cured, it's not smokey like bacon or pancetta, and I'd love to try it in ragus. I've kept some extra fat for scrambled eggs tomorrow. Squisito.

Ode To Something Delicious

When Andrew and I were in Aix-en-Provence in 2003, we took a walk through the markets and amongst the plump stone fruits and pyramids of spices and all the hues of yellow at the fromagier, was the saucisson seller. He was very happy to hear we were from Australia, as his daughter was studying in Melbourne. He wanted us to try his charcuterie, and amongst a few market buys, we took home a wild boar saucisson for lunch in our tiny sun-filled kitchen in our hotel. It was a typical Provence moment: a spotlight of midday sun, small wooden table, two chairs, baguette pulled apart, crumbs, cheese, saucisson, peaches, knife, beer.

I still maintain that sausage is The Most Delicious Thing I've Ever Eaten. The wild boar had a deeper, gamier taste, probably with a hint of sweetness, thick with fat that left our mouths tacky, and we couldn't stop slicing off just a little more and relishing this new flavour.

I think we both always regretted not buying another. On Saturday in Leiden, at the Italian deli Susan took us to, I spotted a salami di cinghiale - wild boar - so I nabbed it. I knew it wouldn't be that taste, and it wasn't - but it was still delicious, rich and meaty-flavoured. Nothing better than a slice here, a slice there. And maybe one day we'll pass through Provence and get a second chance.

And Now For Something Completely Different

I read about some cookbook recipe testing and thought it would be an interesting challenge so put my hand up; unfortuantely had to pass on two Cook's Illustrated recipes as I ran out of time (and one involved charcoal grilling a chicken which is beyond my kitchen capabilities at this time). But then a recipe for an upcoming cookbook called The Asian Grandmother's Cookbook came through and I tackled it today.

Aloo paratha is a popular Indian dish of grilled bread stuffed with a potato mixture. I've never had it before but it sounded delicious. You make a dough, and to boiled and mashed potatoes add herbs and spices. Then you fill rolled out discs of dough with the stuffing, seal, and roll out again, so you have a thin bread with a smooth filling. Cook on both sides until golden, and serve with a spiced yoghurt.

What I loved about this is it's a recipe I wouldn't usually make, and it got me out of my usual cooking zone. It was easy to do, although I only got 6 parathas instead of the quoted 12. Hence the need for recipe testing! There's lots of variations for the filling so I look forward to making it again...and hopefully other Asian grandmother recipes.

If you are interested in trying aloo paratha, watch this adorable Indian chef prepare it and other Indian dishes.

Cooking With Sartre

Hell...is other people's kitchens.

Leiden

We had the loveliest afternoon in Leiden yesterday, thanks to Susan who showed us all around her gorgeous city. It was about time we met up, and she was the perfect guide. Leiden is such a pretty place, similar to Haarlem but with cosy narrow streets lined with interesting shops, stunning churches with ceilings as high as the eye can see, and a beautiful castle built in the 11th century. So much history to explore.

Susan is my foodie partner in crime so our first stop was her favourite cafe, Burgerzaken, for lunch in their adorable candlelit basement. Their specialties are interesting sandwiches and we each had a different type - all delicious and very filling. Of course, there was still room for a fresh stroopwafel during our walk through the markets afterwards. Warmed on the griddle, the thin wafel discs are glued together with soft caramel, bliss! We also tried some of Holland's favourite lolly, liquorice dropjes, including the salty kind which were our favourite, but still, can't say we are huge fans of liquorice!

From there, a walk around the city, through streets lined with old-style street lamps and these amazing old trees that look like they've been singed at the branches. Some of the buildings have poems on their outside walls, something I find really enchanting, including a beautiful poem from Russian poet Marina Tsvetajeva. The castle, De Burcht, is in such good condition and afforded stunning views of the city. Of course this is when my camera battery died.

Susan took us to her favourite Italian deli which had so many gems, least being guanciale, impossible to find and which I'll be posting about this week, and wild boar sausage, which I'll post about seperately too. then the Turkish supermarket for some yummy flat bread and those French yoghurts in glass jars I've been after for ages (you know I'm obsessed with glasses). A stop for a refreshing Wieckse witte beer with lemon before saying goodbye and hopping on the train home.

Susan surprised us with a very thoughtful gift, a Dutch cookbook! Thank you so much!

Mmm...lekker!

Am I Missing Something?

From Madame Tussaud's Amsterdam website:

From today visitors to Madame Tussauds in Amsterdam can make a confession to Pope Benedict XVI.
In a suitably papal setting, visitors can kneel at a prie-dieu to pray and/or to make a confession in the presence of the Pope.

Traditional Dutch Cuisine #...?

I've written about erwtensoep, that traditional, if somewhat stodgey-if-eaten-too-much-like-we-did-one-week, Dutch pea soup. We've eaten our fair share of krokets, although they will need their own blog post. Now, in an attempt to cram as much traditional Dutch food in our mouths before we cross the ditch, I present to you: hutspot.

Hutspot is made for Dutchland, a purely winter dish of chunky mashed potatoes mixed with carrot and onions, served with some kind of sausage or meat, in our case with rookworst, the smoked sausage you find in erwtensoep. I also picked up a boerenkool which is mashed potatoes with spinach or kale, this one served with meatballs.

Now, I got them from Albert Heijn on the way home from the library because my laptop weighs more than an elephant and the butchers are miles from here. I take full responsibility for the rookworst and meatballs tasting truly horrible but these are dishes you could easily make at home, with homemade meatballs, stewed meat or your favourite smoked sausage.

aka the worst photo ever

Happy Birthday Dani!

Dani's big 3-0 was on Saturday and after lugging our crap stuff to our new abode, we dolled ourselves up for a night on the town. First stop, a few glasses of Prosecco at Viqh, a new wine bar in Haarlem that is luxuriously decorated, complete with heavy smoke...and dogs (I don't know why you need to bring your dog to a smokey wine bar).

Then into Amsterdam for dinner at Cafe Bern, a popular restaurant famous for fondue, something I thought we definitely needed. A very cosy place with cute pictures on the wall, the fondue was incredible, bubbly cheesey and not too boozey, served with a couple of baguettes. Dani's first fondue - she loved it! We shared a bottle of wine and it was lovely just to sit and chat for hours.

We wandered around Amsterdam for a while, had a drink and headed in. Hope you have a wonderful year to come love!

Random Thoughts On Thursday

+ A few words on our flatmate. He is nice and very laidback. French, maybe 24, typically anti-capitalist, thin, with piercings in his lip. He's here to study marine biology or ecotoxicology or something smart involving water, but mostly he studies the art of smoking Amsterdam's finest, or Marlboro Reds (where are the Gauloises?). He's a trust fund bebe of sorts, spending every minute behind his laptop with a headset on, playing online games (haven't I had enough French online gamers in my little life?) and randomly saying things in French (we assume to gamers dropping in and out). We've nicknamed him The Petit Tresor because it's so elementary French and really, it's the funniest thing ever. He only eats frozen pizzas, although when we moved in we were thrilled to see a baguette in the kitchen (it's still there though).

+ I have a love/hate relationship with the word lekker. Basically it means nice, tasty, yum, good, depending on the context, and you hear it all.the.time. It's in every ad, you hear people saying it all the time, and it drives me nuts...yet I can't live without it. I make Dani say it if I haven't heard it for a few hours. Say it three times in a row, with a hard k and r, and you might get an idea.

+ It snowed the other day, then was lovely and warm. Really not sure what to expect.

+ I realised that apart from a handful of exceptions, I haven't worn heels in the past three months. If you know me, this is extremely unusual.

+ I go to the library during the day, it's such a lovely spot. I brush up on Microsoft Office, research London, do some online reading. All this time to write, yet it doesn't come, or it's because I push the thought of doing it away to the back of my mind. There's a La Place restaurant on the top floor with nice views of the city, great place for a cheapish bite.

Rotterdam

We went down to Rotterdam yesterday, something I'd been looking forward to for yonks. At dinner on Saturday night, we got talking to the couple next to us, who when we told we were going to Rotterdam the next day, mock-fainted and rolled their eyes. "Rotterdam and Amsterdam have the same rivalry like Melbourne and Sydney". Uh ha.

I'd read about Rotterdam last year when it was the City of Architecture for 2007, and it looked fascinating. Just under an hour on the train from Haarlem, via The Hague, as soon as we got off the train there was interesting architecture hitting us in the face. Modern office towers sleek with charcoal mirrored surfaces, round lines, colours, it has a very different feel to it than Amsterdam. As we walked down to the port, we realised it felt like Barcelona, and how Barcelona feels more international, while Madrid is pure Spain. It is the same here, Amsterdam is absolutely Holland, with the old, slopping buildings on the canals, the bikes, the autumnal colours. Rotterdam is a mix of old, especially around the port with the ships and the ornate buildings, and new, having been bombed in 1940. We walked across the Erasmus Bridge, with it's pale blue cables melting in with the pale blue sky, an impressive sight.

We felt like tourists, and it was a delight. We went to a frites stand to grab something to eat, and noticing braadworst and knakworst, decided we should definitely have a hotdog. See, we used to think that being next to Germany, The Netherlands would be a haven of grilled sausages on the street, enticing the snack-loving Dutch to warm their hands and tummies with blistering worst of all kinds. Nee. You can munch on krokets and frites and Vietnamese spring rolls and haring but if you want sausage, you better fish it out of the bottom of your bowl of pea soup. So when we saw real hotdogs, and not like the frankfurt hotdogs you can find in Amsterdam, we jumped on it. "Braadworst? Don't you want something Dutch!" asked our man. Yes, of course we do. He started selling us krokets, which we know well. We have eaten all kinds of krokets, from Febo krokets to the ones supplied to the Queen, and to be honest, our stomachs could do without any more. So we kindly declined and pushed for the braadworst, even though he was filled with nationalist pride over the kroket. We went back to get some sauce, tomato please. "No!" Oh, ok. And proceeded to dip a frite into all the sauces and taught us about the different kinds, including 'war sauce', which is pinda sauce, or peanut satay sauce, with mayonnaise, because "it's not pretty". Brilliant!

We walked through the shopping streets, then down to the port, munching on fried dumplings from the Vietnamese stand, warmed up with a coffee (yes I was not dressed appropriately, sometimes I forget where I am), took lots of photos, rode the tram on the way back and saw more beautiful buildings, and caught the train home. Very content.

Have a look at my Rotterdam flickr photoset for more photos.